


All I Want Is Nothing More

by DAZzle_10



Category: Rugby RPF, Rugby Union RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Married Couple, Rugby World Cup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-28 07:41:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20774963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DAZzle_10/pseuds/DAZzle_10
Summary: A handful of moments when all Jamie needed were his husband and his best friend.





	All I Want Is Nothing More

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back... It's been a while... And this isn't particularly well written, so sorry about that, but I just wanted to write *something* and get it out there, so here we are. Owen and Jamie just kind of popped up from thinking about the YBWM series, to be honest - a kind of 'what if Dylan's worries about Jamie were true?' Didn't really have much else to go off besides that, hence why there's no real plot and nothing really happens. I feel like I would like to write more about them, though, so if anyone has any suggestions, I'm all ears.
> 
> On a different note, though, it's been a weird few weeks. My general mood and self esteem has been spiralling downwards, then I got some results back (97/100 on my Pure Core Maths mock, so I'll take that, and some others which were alright, like 61/70 on Physics, and less alright, like 24/30 on Mech), got really excited/hyped by the World Cup, crashed completely on Friday, won a free England shirt, watched England do well, felt alright on Monday, got a cold and started to sink back down yesterday, then crashed again today and finally got to the point of my friend dragging me, pretty much in tears, to a teacher to finally tell someone about an issue I've been struggling with. And then I missed two lessons. And came clean to my mum about it. So that was... fun. I do feel better about it than I have in probably a month or so, though, which is nice, and I'm actually going to get help, so... Moral of the story: let people help you. Even if you don't want help. (Because I really didn't and... yeah.) Oh, and I have about two days until the internal deadline for my uni application, which is low-key terrifying. And I'm still working on my EPQ, so as ever, have a survey link: https://forms.gle/Dhk454kZJDu53HaG8
> 
> Seems as though I'm back into full rambling flow, which is lovely, so I'ma cut myself off there and just hand over to this mediocre piece:

White light filters through the cracks in Jamie’s eyelids, brightening gradually as his eyes start to flutter open with increasing awareness. It pierces his fading dreams, skewering them with harsh reality while snatches of conversations and distant roars of engines batter his ears, chasing him steadily from the brink of sleep and back towards the land of wakefulness. Disgruntled by his own returning consciousness, Jamie shifts and turns, trying to press his face harder into the warm surface it rests on, only to gain a small, muffled noise of protest that somehow cuts through the slowly dawning clamour around him. Internally confused, he lifts his head carefully to look around, managing after several seconds to identify the warmth next to him as a similarly dazed Owen, appearing to be in the same process of waking up as Jamie.

A moment later, their location registers. They’re at the airport. The one they landed at however many hours ago – and Jamie’s pretty sure it _has_ been hours. They’re in Japan.

The thought alone is enough to send a new jolt of excitement through his system, shocking him the rest of the way to awareness as he slowly releases his tight hold on Owen to sit up and stare blankly around at the polished floors and gleaming walls. After years of hard work and desperate toil, they’ve made it. They’re here.

“Japan, huh?” he murmurs to Owen, who answers with a tired, yet somehow anticipatory smile before shifting his position to huddle into Jamie’s chest and close his eyes once more, apparently content to attempt another stretch of sleep.

That’s fine, Jamie decides as he lifts his arms to wrap around Owen’s shoulders and hold the younger man secure there. Owen’s warm, and like this, he makes a lovely equivalent for a cuddly bear.

“Enjoying yourself?” Elliot chuckles, dropping into the seat on Jamie’s other side to Owen’s legs, eyes gleaming with mischief. “You two made such a cute pair earlier. Such a shame you moved.”

“Delete the photos,” Owen grunts, words muffled by the effect of his mouth being pressed into Jamie’s chest, and Elliot only laughs.

“Feels real, now, doesn’t it?” come the serious words a moment later, Elliot’s eyes tracking gradually around the area. “We’re here.”

“We’re here, we’re queer,” Jamie nods, tightening his arms around Owen to squeeze his husband gently, and gets a reluctant snort of amusement in return – good enough.

“Speak for yourself,” Elliot presses a hand to his chest, palm flat over his heart. “I am a straight, pure, Christian child.”

“Same,” Owen offers with his face still mashed into Jamie’s pectoral muscles, apparently having given up on sleeping to join their conversation, “Straight as a fucking _circle_.”

That startles a loud cackle from Elliot, Jamie grinning despite the number of times he’s heard that joke, and Owen’s pleased smile is just about visible, half-hidden by Jamie’s shirt as it is.

“It does feel real,” Jamie confirms after a small pause, returning to the original topic at hand. “Now we’re actually…”

“In the right country?” Elliot fills in with a grin. “With our Skipper already making himself comfortable.”

“He won’t be comfortable until he’s had his coffee,” Jamie snorts, nudging Owen lightly to a grouchy murmur of complaint. “Proper addict on our hands, here.”

“You’re his enabler,” Elliot points out, quite reasonably.

“Only reason he’s with me,” Jamie throws back, laughter edging at his tone, and can’t hold back his snort when an elbow digs lightly into his stomach. “Aw, we’ve upset him, now…”

“I miss Dyls,” Owen mutters, though any bite that his comment might have held is softened by the quirk of his lips as he glances up at Jamie to make sure that his words haven’t hit too close to home; they haven’t.

“You liked it better when I was stuck on the bench?” Jamie returns anyway, turning to Elliot. “Oh, the pain, Elliot! My love would rather see me on the bench! Oh, how it hurts…”

“I’ll be here for you, my darling Jamie,” Elliot clutches dramatically at his arm while Owen watches them in quiet amusement. “Don’t you listen to the mean man!”

“It was just nice to have a bit of time away from you,” Owen adds on, and Elliot draws in a sharp breath of mock horror.

The theatrics last barely longer than that as Dan pauses in the act of walking past them to raise a questioning, mildly disturbed eyebrow, and Owen can’t contain his laughter, setting Jamie and Elliot off in turn. This is all Jamie needs, really: his husband on one side, his best friend on the other, and a World Cup ahead.

“Hey, Faz, you know the thing about our wives and girlfriends,” Elliot starts many hours later, when the entirety of England’s Saracens contingent is gathered in his and Jamie’s room; Jamie watches Owen raise his head from where he’s been following some match or other intently. “Is that because of you and Jamie?”

Owen pulls a face that Jamie knows means he hadn’t even thought of that and shrugs.

“Just thought it’d be nice for all of you – get you all some more support and that,” he offers distractedly, eyes still tracking back to the game on his phone with every other word. “I guess it makes things a bit fairer, but…”

“It’s not like it would have been different from 2015,” Mako offers, to an absent-minded nod from Owen.

“Fewer people knew, then, though,” Jamie has to point out, and Owen hums in agreement, clearly barely following the conversation as he rubs his wedding band unconsciously and stares at his phone screen; the sight of Owen so wrapped up in his match, whatever it is, is enough to make Jamie smile.

Then again, the sight of Owen is nearly always enough to make Jamie smile.

“Jinx, tell your husband to stop ignoring us,” George sighs, nudging Owen gently in the shoulder from where he sits much closer to the fly-half than Jamie as he does so. “It’s not even live.”

“It’s a good game!” Owen protests, glancing up very briefly before returning his attention to the screen yet again.

“It’s not even _rugby_,” George adds, to a sarcastically astounded gasp from Elliot.

“Who are you, and what have you done with Owen?” Maro teases, grinning. “Ignoring us for a different sport? That’s a low blow.”

“More entertaining than you lads,” Owen sighs, but he’s already slipping his phone into his pocket, resettling himself to look around at the rest of them. “…What were we talking about?”

Jamie – along with the rest of their clubmates – has to chuckle at that, Owen’s lips twisting in an almost-pout as he waits for their amusement to subside. Unfortunately for him, it only serves to further their laughter, Jamie shoving away the momentary urge to drag Owen over to his own seat and give his poor husband a proper cuddle to make up for it in favour of enjoying Owen’s disgruntlement for the wry, but good-natured, reaction that it is.

“Seriously, though, mate,” Elliot starts when some semblance of calm has returned to the group, Owen’s cheeks now dusted with a rosy hue. “Thanks for that one. Having Michelle around will be nice, I reckon.”

“Welcome,” Owen nods, a small, pleased smile curving his lips up with the satisfaction of a job well done, and Jamie finds himself mirroring the expression automatically, Owen’s happiness translating immediately across.

An hour or two later, the rest of the lads having returned to their own rooms, Owen finally shifts over to settle into Jamie’s side, curling his frame to tuck himself under the arm Jamie lifts. The warmth of his body is comfortingly familiar, settling the anticipatory nerves that Jamie had barely even noticed, used to them as he’s become. They’re here, in Japan, for a World Cup that he feels truly, strongly optimistic for. He’s got his husband at his side, Elliot clearing up the various mugs that have been left scattered across the room, and he _can’t fucking wait_.

When a knock echoes through the room from the door, Jamie barely lifts his head, dropping it back down as soon as he sees that Elliot is going to answer the door. He’s too tired to bother with that shit right now; a brutal combination of training and the heat has absolutely exhausted him, and he wants nothing more than to close his eyes and fall asleep. Socialising more than he already has is not, for once, on the cards.

“Oh, hey, mate,” Elliot doesn’t sound remotely surprised to see whomever their guest is, which tells Jamie the identity almost immediately and prompts him to push up onto his elbows.

“Tired?” Owen grins at him, amused but sympathetic, and Jamie shakes his head adamantly, because nothing is going to prevent him from spending time with this man, and Owen is exactly the sort of dick who would leave and go back to his own room if he thought Jamie would be better off sleeping instead of cuddling.

“I’m –” he breaks off to yawn, and Owen’s eyes soften, “– fine. Just come here.”

Rolling his eyes, Owen does as requested, sinking easily into the outstretched arms that Jamie offers and craning his neck for a kiss.

“Third wheeling yet again,” Elliot mutters, though there’s no real heat behind the words.

“Aw…” Jamie pouts, breaking away. “Come here, then. Can’t have you feeling left out…”

Flapping one arm out to beckon Elliot over, he arches an eyebrow daringly and grins when Elliot sighs but acquiesces. It doesn’t take long to get Elliot tucked under one arm, Owen already appearing half-asleep under the other – not, apparently, so out of it that he can’t complain, “Which one of us is married to you again?”

“Hmm…” Jamie briefly removes his arms from around Owen’s shoulders to find the younger man’s left hand, pointedly examining the ring sitting snugly there. “Couldn’t possibly say.”

Owen huffs.

“I thought you were tired,” he retorts. “You should get to sleep.”

“So you can escape?” Jamie resettles his arm around Owen to squeeze his husband gently, stifling a yawn before he continues. “Never! I have my two favourite Backs here, and I plan to keep it that way.”

“Oh, Jamie!” Elliot simpers on his other side. “I didn’t know you thought so highly of me.”

“All I’m saying is you’re better than the rest of them,” Jamie points out, Owen’s ribcage quivering briefly with faint laughter. “Not hard, that.”

“I’m telling Fordy,” Owen warns, but his actions tell a different story as he wriggles closer to rest his head on Jamie’s chest and close his eyes.

“You can try,” Jamie returns, too satisfied to even pretend to be worried. “You’ll have to get out of here first.”

“I have to get to bed eventually,” Owen reasons drowsily, the rise and fall of his abdomen slowing to a steady rhythm with each passing second.

“Yeah,” Jamie acknowledges, soft as he cranes his neck to kiss the top of Owen’s head, “But you’ve got a little while yet. I’m keeping you while I can.”

Undoubtedly, Owen will deny the small, happy noise he makes when he’s more awake, but Jamie has a fellow eyewitness, and he will be storing that sound away for a long time yet as a reaction he’d very much like to produce many more times. On his other side, Elliot’s lips quirk into a brief smile, his eyes flicking up to meet Jamie’s, then the smile becomes a grin and Jamie knows that his sappy thoughts have been read from his face. That doesn’t mean Elliot won’t be game to help him with his new goal, though.


End file.
